


angels are watching over you

by deanwstories



Series: Chosen [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Possession (Supernatural), Angels, Changing Fate, Demon Blood, Demons, Fate, Gen, Illusions, M/M, Memory Alteration, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, POV Mary Winchester, Protective Michael, Young Dean Winchester, azazel being creepy, changing timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28349568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwstories/pseuds/deanwstories
Summary: Pre-series. Canon divergent. Mary went to check on little Sammy that night. Things didn't go as expected when John entered the nursery after her, his eyes glowing an eerie yellow in the darkness. Dean saves Mary from burning on the ceiling. But when Mary wakes up, she realizes it was all a dream. Or was it?
Relationships: Michael & Dean Winchester, Michael/Dean Winchester
Series: Chosen [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897504
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	angels are watching over you

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you're enjoying this series as much as I am writing it. Let me know what you think in the comments! I love hearing your opinions. :) Thank you once again for reading!! Stay safe everyone.

“Good night, sweetie. Angels are watching over you,” Mary said to her adorable four year old son, Dean. She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead. She smiled as Dean looked up at her with sleepy eyes. “Sweet dreams, Dean.”

The boy smiled back, curling up on his side under the warm blanket, “Night, mama.”

Mary watched as her son closed his eyes and went to sleep. Dean’s blond hair, while always so adorable, was getting a little long and Mary wondered if it was time for another hair cut. She lingered by her son’s bed a little longer, watching as he breathed in and out, his face relaxed, angelic even. She knew Dean was going to grow up into a heart-breaker one day. Just like his dad. She smiled at the thought of Dean growing up to be like John Winchester. Normal, sweet John, who liked to eat fast food and drive the Impala and listen to 80’s rock, and talked about baseball like it was the only pastime that ever existed, and wore his emotions on his sleeve and forgave so damn easily and didn’t even know Mary’s dark secret, that if he knew just a quarter of what she did, he would be running for the hills. 

She knew she was lucky to have John in her life, that he loved her with all his heart. Her dad would never have approved of her marrying John but it was the best damn decision she made, apart from leaving the hunting life behind her for good. 

After another minute of watching her eldest son sleep peacefully in his bed, Mary decided to check in on Sammy before calling it a night. Sam was in his crib in his room on the other side of the hallway. She smiled as she looked down to see Sammy sleeping peacefully inside the crib. Sam, named after her father, Samuel, didn’t even stir as she reached down to gently stroke his cheek. Little Sammy she sometimes called him, taking after Dean after the four year old decided to call his little brother _Sammy_ instead of Sam. Mary had to admit, it did seem to suit him. Sammy was such a cute nickname for the baby. Little Sammy didn’t seem to mind either, looking up whenever he heard the name _Sammy_.

It was fascinating watching her two boys interact with each other. While Dean was only four years old, he had taken his big brother duties very seriously. He would play with the baby while Mary was in the kitchen. She once heard Dean say, “Okay, baby Sammy, you can play with the ‘Pala, but only if you don’t eat it. Daddy would get mad at you and-” Of course that was when John would get back from work and he would cut himself off and shout, “Daddy! You’re back!”

Mary found herself smiling as she remembered watching from the kitchen as John picked their son up and started spinning them around, the two grinning and laughing like crazy. “Oh, hey, Deano! Of course, I’m back! You don’t think your daddy would just go to work and never come back, do you?” he asked, only semi serious. 

Dean shook his head, blond curls bouncing everywhere, and said, “No! Of course not, daddy! I’m just happy you’re back. I love you!”

Mary remembered John’s face at their son’s admission. The happy tears that flowed down his face as he tried to comfort their son. This was what it was like to have a normal life. This large house that was filled with smiles and laughter. This man who loved Mary with everything he had. Her two sons who completed Mary in ways she didn’t know needed to be filled. What the hell would she have done if she never met John? If they never had Dean or Sammy?

The door to the nursery creaked open and Mary snapped out of her thoughts. She looked up to see John. Feeling relieved and annoyed for her husband scaring her, Mary said, “Oh, John. It’s just you. You startled me.” 

John didn’t reply. He looked from Mary to the crib. Mary was getting a little anxious when she followed her husband’s gaze. She stepped in front of him, wondering what has gotten into John. “Are you okay, John?” she asked hesitantly.

John looked back at her after a moment. His lips curled into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a step toward Mary before tilting his head to the side and said, “Johnny’s not here, sweetheart.” Before Mary could process what he said and meant by that, his eyes glowed yellow and he flicked his wrist to the side.

Mary gave a startled shout as she felt herself flung to the wall and soon after, she realized she was sliding up to the ceiling. She stared down in horror as John walked closer to the crib. She tried to move her hands, her legs, anything, but nothing was budging. She was stuck to the ceiling, given a front row seat to whatever horror show her husband lookalike was going to put on.

He glanced up at her, his grin feral, his eyes that horrible gold, so unlike her John that it hurt to watch. “Oh, Mary,” he sighed, “you really shouldn’t have come here tonight. Don’t you remember our little deal?”

Mary had no idea what he was talking about for a moment. Then it hit her. Oh god. “You,” she said, recognizing the demon she struck a deal with.

“Tsk, tsk, part of our deal had been that you got to live if you didn’t interfere with me tonight,” the demon said with John’s voice. 

“Don’t you touch Sammy,” Mary shouted. “Don’t you fucking dare!” She struggled to get free, even when she knew it was fruitless. The demon just laughed and leaned over the crib to see that the baby was awake and was crying. 

“Fussy little thing, ain’t he?” the demon murmured. “But don’t worry, mama Mary, I’ve got just the thing that will put little Sammy at ease.” He lifted his hand up, pretending to examine it. Mary watched in horror as the demon lifted his wrist up to his lips, like he was going to kiss it. He glanced up at Mary, “Don’t you know, mama Mary? Demon blood is so much better than a mama’s milk.” Then he bit down, tearing through his own flesh and Mary wasn’t sure if this was just a nightmare that she hadn’t been able to wake up from just yet. She could see blood dripping between his teeth, his lips, his chin, down his arm. Oh god. Then he was straightening up, lifting his arm over the crib, over Sammy and Mary’s struggles renewed. She had to get to her son, she had to, even if it killed her.

The demon laughed as she continued to struggle against his hold. “Oh, Mary,” he whispered, watching her with perverse glee, “I hate to do this - you really are my favorite. But if I’m being honest, I don’t actually need you anymore now that I have my champion.” He stared up at her for another moment before curling his fingers to form a fist and Mary found herself choking.

This couldn’t actually be how she died. On the ceiling, watching as a demon dripped blood down on her youngest son. Was this really the end of Mary Winchester? The girl who grew up hunting because her own father was obsessed with playing hero? The girl who gave it all up once she met the love of her life? Who just wanted a normal, safe apple pie life where she could raise a family without the threat of death at every turn?

“NO! Get away from Mary and Sam Winchester, demon!” Mary felt the invisible hold that gripped her throat just vanish. She sucked in a large amount of air. The demon was flung to the other side of the room as four year old Dean Winchester entered the room. The force that kept Mary pinned to the ceiling was gone and suddenly Mary found herself falling down. Before she could crash to the floor, her four year old son looked at her and suddenly she felt herself being gently put down.

Feeling disoriented and out of her element, she could only watch as Dean began to walk over to the demon. There was purpose in his strides, something she never saw in her four year old son before. He seemed to glow in the dimly lit room. Something shimmered behind him, even as he walked over to the demon, crouching in front of the thing, his eyes narrowed and lips curled in disdain. For a moment they stared at each other before the demon’s eyes widened, recognition flashing across his face. “You!” the demon spat. “You’re not supposed to be here. Not _now_!”

Dean tilted his head. “No, I supposed I’m not.”

“I’m doing just as you and your brother have asked,” the demon shouted. “Why are you here?”

Mary had never seen a demon so shaken up before, so out of its element. It was entrancing to watch.

Dean smiled and reached out to touch the demon on his forehead, “That’s a good question. Why am I here indeed?”

“Don’t touch me!” the demon jerked back.

Dean paused for a moment. “Times have changed, Azazel. I have changed. You can’t be here. I won’t allow it.” Then suddenly Dean reached to put two fingers on the demon’s head and there was a bright flash of light and Mary couldn’t seem to take her eyes off it, even as the demon started to scream and Dean was shouting, “Look away, Mary Winchester! Look away!”

Mary turned just in time and everything faded to black.

-

Mary woke up with a start. She looked up at the ceiling of her bedroom. She could hear John’s light snores from beside her. What a strange dream. A demon coming to Sammy’s nursery, Dean saving her from dying on the ceiling. She sat up slowly, the hunter instincts in her telling her to check on the boys just in case. She got out of bed as quietly as she could. She didn’t need John waking up for this. Didn’t need to worry him just because she was being paranoid.

She went to check on Dean first and found her four year old still nestled under the mound of warm blankets, smiling serenely at whatever dream he was having. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him for a moment.

Then she tiptoed down the hall to check on Sammy. Sammy was just where she left him in his crib. There wasn’t a single trace of blood on him. He was perfectly fine, his blanket covering his small body. She smiled, her heart beating steady. Her hunter instincts calmed down significantly at the sight of her perfect little boys, sleeping peacefully in their rooms. She glanced over at the little angelic statue that sat on top of the dresser. She remembered finding it at a garage sale one year. Then another was given to John by one of his returning customers at the garage. Some guy named Bobby Singer.

“Angels are watching over you,” she whispered into the room.

Baby Sammy stirred for a moment, before turning on his side.

-

“So, Michael, changing fate, huh?”

Michael turned the green eyes of his charge to see a blond haired woman appear next to him as he leaned against the black Impala. He shrugged, looking up at the sky, “Trying to at least.”

“Didn’t think I’d ever see the day that the most loyal being in the whole universe would try and rebel against the grand plan,” Fate said.

Michael said nothing to that. He still wasn’t sure if he could make enough of a difference to change the outcome.

Fate continued, “You know that this could come back to bite you in the ass in the end. No one can just change God’s plans, not even you.”

Michael remembered thinking that once. That everything was futile. The road might be different but the result would always be the same. He remembered saying that to Dean Winchester. “Maybe, but a friend once taught me that you won’t know until you try.”

Fate rolled her eyes. “One Dean Winchester, right?”

Michael smiled. It must have been pretty obvious who he was talking about given that he was still possessing four year old Dean Winchester. The boy's soul was sleeping soundly within him, feeling the warmth of the archangel's protection. “Yes. Dean Winchester.”

“Good luck with that one. He’s quite the handful,” she said.

“I know,” Michael said.

The stars really were pretty, especially tonight. All of his father’s creations were. The more Michael saw of earth, he wondered how he could ever want to hold his fight with Lucifer here, turning such a beautiful thing into a barren wasteland.


End file.
